


Pack and Life

by words_reign_here



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Hale family royalty, Jackson is a Good Friend, Omega Scott McCall, Prince Derek, Princess Cora, Princess Laura - Freeform, Sex Worker Stiles Stilinski, better safe than sorry, but it is discussed, but like warriors, drugs are mentioned but not taken, mentions of physical abuse, no actual sexual assault takes place during the story, so ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_reign_here/pseuds/words_reign_here
Summary: Stiles had been taken from his home and separated from his father when he was fifteen and the US decided to fuck itself with a cactus. They made North Korea look like a communicative country with a stable leader, these days. Then the shifters came out and the Second Civil War started and seven years later, Stiles stood, waiting in the wings, to have sex with an Alpha prince.





	Pack and Life

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know! I don't know! I just woke up and this is what happened and I finished and I just sat there like, "What in the hell just happened?"  
> There isn't any actual rape in the story, but it is mentioned. Also, there isn't any drugs used but they are offered and taken. So, just keep that in mind if that isn't your thing.

"Stilinski!" Harris yelled and stuck his head into the tent. Stiles heard Allison squeak and hide behind Scott and he could _feel_ Lydia's scowl on the back of his neck when she stepped behind him as well. Neither Allison or Lydia were shy about being half dressed around Scott or Stiles, but when it came to Harris, they would both rather go without rations for three days than willingly let _that_ happen.

"Yes, sir?" Stiles said and wondered if he could get away with a remark or two.

Probably not. If he did, Stiles wouldn't suffer any consequences but Allison, Lydia, and Scott would. Jackson had been able to sneak them food last time, but it had been a scant call. Then their labor had continued while Stiles had been confined to their tent, unable to help, they had all ended up looking so thin-

Stiles realized that Harris was still talking to him and he nodded dutifully and then Harris was gone.

Allison let out a huff of relief and pulled her shirt on and went to Lydia's side to help her braid her hair.

"What did he say?" Stiles asked.

"You're on deck tonight. 7 PM." Scott said softly.

Stiles nodded. He had suspected as much. Entertainment had been brought in from out of state for the soldiers in the camp. Someone important, maybe royalty, maybe a shifter, maybe a politician. It was hard to know.

It didn’t matter, in the end.

"Who is it?" Stiles asked and sat down on his bunk. The tent flapped in the wind and Scott went to the heater in the corner of the room and cranked it all the way up and pretended not to hear Stiles.

Allison kept her eyes on the task at hand and Lydia's eyes were glued to the opening of their tent.

"Guys?" Stiles asked.

"Alpha Hale." Lydia finally muttered.

"But-" _I just had an alpha three nights ago. I'm barely able to walk_ now _. The bruises are still there._

"We know." Scott whispered and clenched his fists.

There was a polite tap on their tent flap and Jackson stepped in, heaving great big breaths, as though he had run from the other side of camp. Which maybe he did. His cheeks were flushed and he pressed his mouth into a thin line when he saw everyone inside.

"I'm too late, huh?" He said and nodded to himself. "Coach sent me, but Harris said he would tell you and I tried to get here, but Greenberg-"

Stiles waved a hand at him and gave him a sad smile. Jackson dug around in his pocket and dropped a bottle on the bed beside Stiles. "Danny says its specially formulated for shifters. Less chemical smell so maybe if you get ready before it won't-" Jackson shut his mouth so hard, his teeth clacked together.

Stiles picked up the bottle and twirled it around in his hands. He had used this brand before. One of the better shifters that Harris had shoved him on had used it on him.

"Thanks, man." Stiles cleared his throat. "Do you know- which- which?" He asked.

"Derek Hale." Jackson murmured. "He'll be doing a concert tonight and then-"

No one seemed to be able to finish their sentences this cold morning.

"Right." Stiles said. "I guess I have to go get washed up." He muttered and left the tent. He headed for the baths and when they saw him headed towards them, there was a ripple effect of people running to get things ready.

Alpha Prince Derek Hale demanded an audience with only the best, after all.

***

"So. My question is-" Derek started as the SUV drove silently down the road.

"You cannot kill Harris." Talia snapped immediately.

"Come on. One little death. Who's going to miss him?" Derek pleaded.

"Literally no one." Laura muttered next to him. She was flipping through a folder that Derek had already glanced at that had listed all of Harris' egregious acts against the humans and a few omegas in his camp.

"You have your orders." Talia said. "We get what we came for, nothing more, nothing less and you get your furry asses back home and do _not_ make me send Peter after you. We will all regret it."

"Except maybe Uncle Peter." Cora muttered.

Talia paused. "That's probably true. Do the concert. Get what you went for. Come home. Are we clear?"

The three siblings nodded.

"Five million. Ok? Five million is our upper mark." Talia added before she cut off the video feed and silence reigned in the cab.

"If he dies by like-" Derek paused, "Choking on something? Does that count? I mean, I didn't make him choke. Do you think she would buy that?"

"No, but I mean, you could always try?" Laura suggested.

"It's not like she could bring him _back_." Cora pointed out.

Derek grinned at his sisters. They grinned back.

"None of you can successfully lie to your mother and if you think you can, you're all lying to _yourselves_." Boyd said from the front seat.

Their grins faded.

"God, Boyd, you ruin all our fun." Laura huffed.

"It's my own kind of fun." Boyd pointed out.

***

"He's not old." Allison whispered. She held onto his hand.

"He's pretty." Lydia said from where she was tucked underneath his arm.

"He's young." Scott murmured and pressed a quick kiss to Stiles' knuckles where there fingers were laced together over Lydia's shoulder.

They were all right, of course, but it didn't make it any better. In a few hours, the sweaty guitar player that was playing to an audience of soldiers, some of whom were his friends, some who Stiles and his friends wished were dead, would have Stiles bent over and would fuck him mercilessly. Then he would limp back to his tent and for the next three days, no one but his tent-mates and best friends would be allowed near him. He would recover and wait until he was called again.

And again.

And again.

Welcome to the life of Stiles Stilinski, world class concubine, most wanted piece of ass in Camp Beacon, whose body bought him and his friends more comfort than most.

There were worst things, he supposed, but he couldn't quite think of what those things were.

He had been taken from his home and separated from his father when he was fifteen and the US decided to fuck itself with a cactus. They made North Korea look like a communicative country with a stable leader, these days. Then the shifters came out and the Second Civil War started and seven years later, Stiles stood, waiting in the wings, to have sex with an Alpha prince.

Like he said, welcome to the life of Stiles Stilinski.

The last song was played, there was an encore, and then Jackson stepped out of the shadows near them, in his full uniform.

"You look very handsome." Stiles told him seriously.

"Not so bad yourself." Jackson said softly, the same remarks they always traded when Jackson came for him. Lydia kissed Stiles and pressed her forehead to his and then Allison did the same. Scott held onto him for a long moment and then Jackson was murmuring something and Stiles was following him. They crossed the camp to the guest quarters where the Hales were staying. The other camp workers and soldiers didn’t even bother to hide the fact that they were staring.

"Do you have anything?" Stiles whispered.

Jackson gave him a small baggie with two pills inside. Stiles sighed. "Thank you." He whispered.

Jackson gave him one tight nod and then they were at the guest quarters. As they approached Prince Hale's small cabin, two figures exited and Stiles recognized them as Cora and Laura. Jackson and Stiles bowed immediately and showed them both the backs of their necks.

Decorum had changed since shifters had made themselves known.

Both Cora and Laura pressed their hands to the backs of their necks and when they straightened up, Laura was there, her red eyes flashing and she was pressing her nose to Stiles' neck, and taking a deep breath. There was a recognition there when she stepped away and Stiles realized that Cora's hand was around his neck, forcing him to tilt his head and she did the same thing.

"Please-" Stiles whispered when he saw understanding in Laura's eyes.

"Shush." Laura snapped and she met her sister's eyes over his shoulder.

Cora let Stiles go and then turned to Jackson. "Go." She ordered. "We'll take it from here."

With one long, regretful look, Jackson left.

Cora and Laura's hands seemed to gentle as they herded him into the cabin and Stiles remained outwardly calm but he couldn't help but think of wolves shepherding sheep into a trap.

Cora tapped on the door and there was a soft reply from the inside and then Laura was pushing them through the door and inside.

The Hale Pack was royalty for a reason and if someone had told Stiles it was because they were the best looking wolves around, Stiles would have accepted that at face value. They wouldn’t have been wrong. The Hale Pack had won the genetic lottery. Pale eyes, thick, dark hair, perfect skin, and a smile that looked like it could compete with the sun, the three of them were overwhelming. Stiles stared at the three of them while Derek studied him in turn.

But that wasn’t the reason for royalty. Nope. Stiles had heard all kinds of stories and when the wildest of tales came down to it, the story was essentially distilled into this:

Talia Hale had been an alpha before the war. Her children and husband and brother were all betas. Her betas. But something happened, some kind of magic shifted in the earth, there was a deal with the devil, no one was ever quite sure. But one by one, each Hale family member’s eyes turned red, each gained the alpha power, without having killed an alpha themselves.

A pack of alphas, led by the alpha of alphas.

It was very alpha-y, in Stiles opinion.

Then Stiles was spun against the wall and quickly searched.

Cora found the pills. She placed them on the small table by the food that had been laid out. Derek looked curiously from them to Stiles and back again. He looked to Laura who was studying Stiles and then turned to Derek and shrugged. There was some silent communication going on and Stiles tried to remember if there were genetic mutations that allowed shifters to communicate silently or if that was just a vamp thing-

“Stilinski.” Cora said and snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Your Highness.” Stiles said and kept his eyes on his shoes. He could probably get a new pair out of this visit. Maybe Scott too, god knows he needed some new boots for his field work. Just Scott then, no use in pushing his luck-

“Stilinski, concentrate.” Laura murmured and put something on the table next to the pills and tapped it.

A picture.

“Can you tell me who this is?” Laura pressed.

Stiles looked at her curiously and approached the table and looked down.

The light hair, the blue eyes, the weathered expression. A knowing smirk that Stiles remembered. The Sheriff’s badge over his heart.

It was recent.

“ _Oh god_.” Stiles hissed and his knees gave out.

Laura looped one strong arm around his waist and Derek brought him a chair. Stiles slumped over the picture and pressed it to his chest and looked up at Derek. “Is he ok? Is he alive?” He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Please, can I keep this? Please, anything you want- please just-”

“Shhh.” Laura whispered and put a hand to the back of his head. She looked up at Derek. “You got this? We have to-” Then she pressed her mouth. “Shit, mom is going to kill us.”

“She hasn’t yet.” Derek pointed out, the first words he’d spoken since they entered the cabin. “There’s hope.”

“You aren’t going to like this.” Cora warned and looked down at Stiles. She tipped her head to the side and Stiles mirrored her movement exactly. He would do anything for any tidbit of information about his dad, if he was alive, anything.

Derek leaned in and pressed his nose and mouth to Stiles’ neck.

“Son of a bitch.” He said and hunkered down before he went back in for another deep breath. “What is that?” He pulled back and grasped Stiles’ chin and made him meet Derek’s eyes. “Stiles. Please.”

That shook Stiles to his core. No alpha had ever said that word to him in his very long existence in this camp. No alpha had looked at him like Derek was looking at him now.

“Scott McCall. He’s an omega. No one knows.” Stiles’ voice shook and he held onto the picture. He wondered if he would be buried with it. If his dad was alive, he wondered if Derek would tell him that Stiles died bravely. “Lydia Martin. Banshee. No one knows.” His voice broke and his eyes filled with tears. “Allison Argent.” He whispered and Derek’s face shuttered. “Daughter of Chris Argent. No one knows. We tell everyone she’s my sister.”

There was a silence so complete and then Laura let out a hysterical bite of laughter that she cut off quickly.

No one moved.

“Well.” A man in the corner of the room murmured that Stiles had not noticed before. “Your mom can’t really blame this one on you.”

Derek stood and walked to one end of the cabin and opened the door to the bathroom and then slammed it shut, violently, three times. It cracked.

Then he picked up a wooden chair and threw it at a wall near the nameless man and it shattered. The nameless man was showered with bits of wood that he brushed off.

Then Derek roared.

Stiles had heard the stories of an alpha’s roar but he wasn’t prepared for it. It shook the ground beneath him and Stiles fell from his chair and clamped his hands over his ears. Every caveman instinct in him was telling him to run and hide and get away.

“Hey.” The voice sounded distant and when he looked up, the nameless man was peering under the table that Stiles had taken shelter under. “It’s ok. Come on. I think he’s mostly done.”

Stiles shook his head.

The man offered his hand. “I promise you, on my life and on my pack, he isn’t upset with you. The situation has just become slightly more complicated.”

There was another squawk of hysterical laughter in the background.

“You promise?” Stiles whispered.

“Life and pack.” The man swore. He helped Stiles out and brushed him off. “I’m Boyd.” He said.

“Nice to meet you.” Stiles said automatically.

Boyd smiled and went back to his seat.

“Go.” Derek said to his sisters. “We’ll do what we can and force what we can’t.”

Laura and Cora nodded and gave Stiles one last look before they left.

“Boyd, find the guy who brought Stiles and start-” Derek waved his hand. “Doing whatever it is you do.” He paused and looked at Stiles. “Is there anything we should know about _that_ guy?” He asked.

“His name is Jackson. He’s a kanima.” Stiles whispered.

Derek blinked at him, his mouth open in shock, and looked at Boyd who looked back impassively. Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck.” Derek whispered. “ _What the fuck_.”

Boyd clapped Derek on the shoulder and left the cabin.

Stiles stood next to the table. Derek stared out one of the large windows and sighed. “Stiles Stilinski. Son of John Stilinski, former Sheriff of Beacon County when the world was still sane. Mother, Claudia Stilinski. No siblings. Taken from his father at age fifteen, forced into the sex trade by the Beacon Camp. No known associates. No known address. Suspected dead, but no confirmation.” Derek closed the curtains and turned back to Stiles. He gestured to the remaining chair and dragged Boyd’s chair over to the table. “You eat, I’ll talk.” Derek said.

“I’m not supposed to eat before an alpha.” Stiles said.

Derek popped a grape into his mouth and raised his eyebrows.

Stiles bowed his head and smiled.

The picture was still in Stiles’ hand.

“That was taken two days ago.” Derek said and Stiles felt like his chest was broken open. Derek pushed a pot of soup at him and a bowl. Stiles served himself numbly. “He led the Vegas rebellion six and a half years ago. He’s been gathering the most important humans to him. Melissa McCall, a doctor who specializes in lycanthropy medicine, and probably knows more than we do about our own physiology. Chris Argent, your dad’s right hand man, a general, who runs a ship tighter than some packs we’ve seen.”

Stiles ate.

“My mother and father have been trying to create an alliance with your father for two years now. Your father met with them three months ago and said that if they could give him the final word on you, alive or dead, he would agree to it. Along with Allison Argent and Scott McCall.”

Stiles nodded, “Sounds like dad.” He muttered.

Derek pushed a jug of juice at him. “I don’t think he thought we could actually get any intel on you and it took _much_ longer than we thought, but-” Derek shrugged. “I guess we saved time on the other missions.” There was a hysterical edge to his voice.

“So you’re going to go back and tell your mom and then dad is going to bust in here and save me and Scott and Allison and Lydia and Jackson?” Stiles asked hopefully.

Derek laughed. Stiles startled because it was so genuine and his smile was so endearing, what with the bunny teeth and all, that Stiles could only stare.

“Oh, Stiles. Your dad said you were kind of funny.” Derek shook his head. “We aren’t leaving without you.”

“But-” Stiles looked to the door and thought about everyone in his tent and how Jackson was probably there too, rocking Lydia while they both pretended she wasn’t crying. How Allison was probably flipping her favorite knife around in her long fingers and staring at the tent flap. How Scott was probably pacing and forcing himself not to shift.

“Well, now we aren’t leaving without the others too.” Derek said with a sigh.

“But-” Stiles started.

“And the banshee, yes. And the kanima, too.” Derek put his head down on the table and sighed. “If I cried, can I trust you not to tell my sisters?”

“Why would you cry?”

“Because my mom is going to kill me.” Derek said.

***

Derek did not cry. There were too many things to do. First things first, he had to fuck Stiles.

Or rather, they had to make it look like he fucked Stiles. It was all a charade at this point and Stiles ate more in one sitting than he had in the past five years as Derek listened to some of the ideas he had.

“So, ok.” Stiles said and wiped his hands on his pants. Then he stilled. “Can you tell if there are other wolves outside?” He whispered.

“Yes.” Derek said. “But there’s only Boyd and Jackson out there right now.” His eyes flared red and Stiles took a small step back. “I hear a couple of omegas trying to get closer but Laura and Cora keep circling them-”

The twins.

“Ethan and Aiden.” Stiles said. “Harris keeps them on the payroll to keep an eye on alphas so I don’t get killed.”

Derek’s eyes flashed brighter for a second and then went back to his usual pale green-gray-blue-gold. “There is- that is - what the fuck.” He finally breathed.

Stiles shrugged.

“So how do we make this look real?” Derek asked. “I don’t- I mean I’ve never- I mean I _have_ but never with-”

Stiles watched, fascinated, as Derek stumbled over his words.

“Help.” Derek finally ended.

Stiles nodded slowly. He went over to Derek’s bed and flopped on it. He took his shirt off and squirmed all around over it, rubbed his face on the pillow and all over the sheets. He spit on his hands and smeared it down the sheets as well.

“Tear this.” Stiles said and tossed Derek his shirt.

Derek looked puzzled but did as he was asked. He laid it on the table and raked his claws across it.

“Very artistic.” Stiles said and then stood. He rummaged through the bathroom and found Derek’s dirty clothes and plucked out his sweaty t-shirt from the pile and rubbed it all over himself. Then he went back to the bed and began to jump on it and began to moan, loudly. He gestured for Derek to join in.

Derek blushed to the tips of his ears but joined in.

“And now for the pièce de résistance,” Stiles jumped off the bed and approached Derek.

Derek almost took a step back. Stiles was sweaty but he smelled like Derek and it was-

Overwhelming.

Yeah, that’s what Derek was going to go with.

Stiles held his palm out. Derek looked puzzled.

“Cut me.”

“No.”

They stared at each other.

“This is how it always ends. Alphas always look for a little blood, not much, just enough-”

“No.” Derek snapped.

Stiles fell silent.

Derek sighed but knew Stiles was right. He hated it. He hated that this kid was so knowledgeable in all these things and he hated the bruises on him that were still dark and the scars that criss-crossed his back and the numbers on the tendons of his neck that marked him for the Beacon Camp and he hated the smell of this cabin-

Derek sliced open his own arm and gathered the blood in his palm, forced the healing to slow, and dragged it across Stiles’ face.

“Good?” Derek asked quietly.

Stiles nodded.

“Ok. I need you to get Scott in here.” Derek said.

Stiles looked stricken.

“No one gets left behind. Not tonight, not ever. I swear to you, on my life and my pack, you are leaving with us. _All of you_.” Derek whispered and Stiles realized how close they were standing. “But we have to make this believable.”

“Ok.” Stiles whispered.

“How do you get back? Does the alpha take you?” Derek whispered.

“No. Jackson comes in, dresses me, carries me back.” Stiles’ voice wobbled, the first sign of any kind of emotion concerning his situation.

“Can I trust him?” Derek whispered.

“Yes.”

“Call him.”

***

“You don’t smell hurt.” Jackson whispered and shifted Stiles’ weight in his arms. “But you’re heavier than usual.”

“Don’t say anything. To anyone. Please.”

“That’s not your blood either.”

“Jackson.”

“Boyd was telling me stories. How this guy tore another wolf to shreds for looking at Laura too long. How he has a temper that makes most criminals scared of him. His mother, the alpha of fucking alphas, can barely keep him under control. How he goes through omegas in a week and they have to carry the bodies out sometimes.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t say anything.”

“If you die-”

“I won’t.” Stiles promised and then they were at his tent.

***

“Trust me.” Stiles whispered and cradled Scott’s face in his hands. “Ok. If nothing else, trust _me_.”

Scott stared at him.

“Please.” Stiles whispered.

Scott nodded and then looked to Jackson. Jackson looked uncomfortable and confused.

“That’s not your blood.” Scott whispered. “You aren’t hurt. He didn’t even touch you, did he?”

“No.”

Scott was silent but nodded and followed Jackson out. The girls descended on him but he shook his head. He looked around their tent and found a book. He tore out a page and scribbled on it and handed it to Allison.

She opened her mouth but he shook his head. Stiles couldn’t be sure that Ethan and Aiden hadn’t followed them back.

 _Hit me,_ the note read.

Stiles tapped his eye.

Allison looked hesitant and frowned. Lydia looked between them and Stiles didn’t even see it coming. Lydia swung and landed a perfect hit on Stiles’ eye and he fell to his knees. He choked back a cry and then they were helping him up and into bed just as Ethan and Aiden came bustling in.

Stiles let himself cry, then.

“Get out.” Allison hissed as she gently helped Stiles into bed.

Lydia shoved them out and then Stiles watched the tent flap for a minute.

“Are you ok?” Allison whispered.

Stiles nodded. He gestured for her to come closer and he pressed her ear to his mouth and whispered, “They are going to take us home. Trust me.”

Allison jerked back and her brown eyes were wide. She looked on the verge of tears but Stiles didn’t try to say anything else. He just nodded.

***

Scott came back a few hours later, a gash across his chest and covered in blood. There tears on his cheeks but when he met Stiles there was only gratitude and victory there. He nodded.

Jackson led Lydia out next.

She didn’t come back until three hours later, her hair a tangle, the outline of a palm on her cheek. She was still crying and Jackson looked _furious_ and glared at Stiles.

Stiles put a finger to his lips and Jackson’s shoulder slumped. He led Allison out next.

She didn’t return until the sun was peeking over the horizon. Jackson was with her, along with Boyd. They were both helping her back as she sobbed and let her hair fall over her face. It was a tangled mess and her nose was bleeding but she offered Stiles a blinding grin and he understood that she was sobbing with joy.

“Prince Alpha Derek Hale might summon you later in the day if he feels the need.” Boyd intoned. “You are under his orders to keep to your tent. No one but myself and Whittemore are allowed past the opening. If the Prince so much as smells another person or wolf in here,” Boyd paused and grinned. He winked. “Well, we all see what he can do. Are we clear?” His voice was flat.

“Yes, sir.” Scott murmured.

“Good.” Boyd said and gave them one last look. “Princess Cora or Princess Laura might come by to check on you. Be prepared.”

He left without a backwards glance.

Tubs were brought in so that they could clean up and Cora and Laura came in with lunch. They waited to make sure everyone was seated and when they saw that everyone was satisfied, they hugged each of them in turn and left.

Derek did not visit.

At sunset, Jackson came in and said, “We’ve been called to Harris’ office.” He said and gestured to the tent opening and beyond.

Everyone blatantly stared at them. Stiles’ eye had swollen shut. Scott had bandaged his chest and the doctor had told him to keep his shirt off. Lydia’s lip was busted open and Allison had a bruise on her cheek. Jackson helped Stiles with an arm around his waist when Stiles pretended to limp.

When they entered Harris’ office, a converted classroom, Stiles blinked when he saw Derek seated behind Harris’ desk. Cora and Laura flanked him and he was smirking at Harris.

Harris was standing off to the side, fuming. The twins were further behind him, watching the two men speak with wary expressions.

“Eight and Jackson stays.” Harris was staying.

Impossibly, Derek’s smirk widened to a grin. “Five and Jackson goes.” Derek said. He looked over at Jackson, let his eyes linger on his face, his shoulders. “He looks like he’s a strong boy.”

There was no trace of the shy, stuttering alpha from the night before. This was only a prince, _the_ Prince, arrogant and sure of his place in the world. He wanted something and he was going to get it, consequences be damned.

Harris clenched his fists. “No.”

“Prince Derek is making you a very generous offer. I suggest you take it.” Cora said. She sounded bored. The friendly girl from the night before was gone. In her place was a girl that looked like she wanted to eat the twins alive. They kept glancing away from her, only to be drawn back a second later.

“I want to speak to the Queen.” Harris snapped.

Laura laughed. “Not happening.” The sweet comfort she had offered the night before was replaced by the cold calm of a winter blizzard. Her baby brother wanted something. She was going to get it for him.

“Five, Stilinski stays.” Harris looked over at Stiles who was still clinging to Jackson. “He’s my best money maker.”

There was a flash and Boyd was in front of their small group, urging them back and Harris was pinned to the wall, Derek’s hand at his throat, all three siblings partially shifted, snarling up at him. The twins looked like they had no desire to even try to protect Harris.

“Half of one, they all go, and you get to keep your head attached to your shoulders.” Derek snarled.

Harris gasped and then he began to turn a very interesting color.

“Fine.” He spat and Derek dropped him.

“Call your druid. Get that mark off of them.” Derek said and nodded to Boyd.

Boyd and the druid returned at the same time. Boyd had a case and the druid had an old knife and an even older book. A few words in Latin, Harris’ signature on a few pieces of paper, a quick cut across their brand, and then-

It was done.

They were free.

Boyd handed the case over to Harris who jerked it out of his hands but Boyd laughed at him.

Then Derek was there and grinned at him. “Ready?” He said.

“Yep.” Stiles said and Jackson let him go. Stiles stood up easily on his own and followed Laura out the door. Scott tugged the bandages off his chest and his skin was whole and clear. Boyd gave him a shirt from somewhere. Allison and Lydia straightened up and followed Cora.

“What-” One of the twins sputtered but there was nothing to keep them there, at that dirty camp, filled with some of the worst nightmares of Stiles’ life. The mark on their shoulders couldn’t call them back, Harris had signed the paperwork that released them, and he had three alphas and a well trained beta escorting him to a big SUV and to a faraway place where his dad was waiting for him.

Welcome to the life of Stiles Stilinski.


End file.
